William Blake,
Vala, or The Four Zoas: Night the Third
“ In a soft cloud Outstretch'd across, & Luvah dwelt in the cloud Then Man ascended mourning into the splendors of his palace Above him rose a Shadow from his wearied intellect Of living gold, pure, perfect, holy; in white linen pure he hover'd 5 A sweet entrancing self delusion, a watry vision of Man Soft exulting in existence all the Man absorbing Man fell upon his face prostrate before the watry shadow Saying O Lord whence is this change thou knowest I am nothing And Vala trembled & coverd her face, & her locks. ”
